Going Full Circle
by Shikijika
Summary: Around in a never ending circle, one hundred times over. Series of different AUs sporadically written for a challenge. IchigoxHitsugaya, generally worksafe.
1. 082 Deaf

Because I'm a headcase, I took up the au100 challenge on LiveJournal. I've never written any AU fanfiction before, so I guess it's good practice

This is number 082, Deaf. :3

---

Hitsugaya Toshiro shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot, his hands in his jean pockets and blue eyes watching the darkening alleyway with a look of incredible boredom. He was late again; the weak winter sun was beginning to set and it wasn't going to get any warmer. A cloud of frozen vapour spiralled lazily into the sky as he sighed, clicking his tongue. Where was that idiot?

"Again?" Toshiro's expression immediately turned to disapproving as Ichigo turned the corner; his eyebrow raised and his hands dropped back down to his hips. Ichigo just sighed and wiped the blood dripping slowly out of his nose away before answering.

"You're acting as though I'm starting it," came the reply, Ichigo immediately falling into step with Toshiro as he turned on his heel and began to make his way down the road. "It's not my fault they're persistent assholes, is it?"

"I don't mean that I think you start it."

"What did you mean, then?"

Toshiro paused before answering this time, privately wondering why his friend was so... dense. "As far as I understand, 'again' merely implied that you'd been in a fight for the third time this week. Why do you insist on walking down here that way when you know that they're just going to follow you?"

He looked up at Ichigo, who just shook his head and gave a sort of half-smile. "Because that's what they want me to do, isn't it?"

"Drawing unnecessary attention to yourself is--"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "-- exactly what I did when I started talking to you, and you never complain about that... anymore."

"That's different. That was positive attention--"

"-- that you didn't want --"

"-- I thought you were pitying me," Toshiro finished, looking slightly (more) irritated than usual.

"You thought I was pitying the little deaf kid who knocked me out with one punch because he thought I was insulting him?"

The white-haired boy allowed his mouth to slip into a smile, a long moment of nothing passing by them.

"I'm glad I punched you."

Ichigo looked slightly offended. "I hate you too. How come?"

"Well, you wouldn't have learned sign language, or decided to talk me at all if I hadn't. I remember the first thing you signed, you know," Toshiro replied, his hands hovering in the air after he finished his sentence.

"Oh?"

"'What the fuck was that for, midget?'."

Ichigo laughed, and Toshiro wondered why he so suddenly wished that he could hear it.


	2. 006 Hours

Part one of three connected drabbles, because it was going to be too long to be a decent one-shot. … I don't like long, shh.

---

When Hitsugaya was thirteen, it was simple curiosity and almost envy of a person he had never spoken to.

Momo had told him it was rude to stare and that he really shouldn't do it, but surely it didn't matter if they didn't notice his presence? Despite that he knew those were ridiculous excuses and that she was probably right, it didn't stop him sitting in trees -- an excellent place to sit unnoticed -- and watching people pass by underneath him.

One person who was _not _just passing by was capturing his attention at the moment, however.

Ichigo Kurosaki -- he was in the same class as Hitsugaya, he remembered -- had been sitting on that bench a short distance away for a while now. One knee drawn up to his chest, his left arm resting on it and in turn supporting his chin; Hitsugaya idly wondered if he was getting cramp from sitting in the same position for so long. A scowl darkened his still-childish features, his cheek red and slightly swollen from what he guessed to be bruising, and generally he appeared rather roughed-up. The orange-haired boy certainly got into a lot of fights over his hair colour, so it was an educated and very likely correct guess.

Sometimes Hitsugaya had asked himself why he wasn't picked on for his own strange hair colour -- almost everyone seemed to pretend that he didn't exist, a complete contrast to the other boy who never seemed to stop getting unwanted attention. Did he have that kind of effect on people? It was probably his height, he decided after a moment's thought. He was still the smallest in his class, and perhaps that granted him an immunity. Nobody wants to beat up someone who wouldn't be a challenge.

But why would Kurosaki be any more of a challenge than he was? Hitsugaya felt one of his fists curl in anger; it was ridiculous to _want _to be targeted, he knew that, but somehow... somehow it would make him feel like he was really there. Not just a nameless face blended into a crowd.

He closed his eyes, obscuring Kurosaki from view as he pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. This was so stupid. He didn't want to get the shit kicked out of him (he was hardly trained in combat), in all honesty, and he usually enjoyed the peace that came with being ignored. What the hell was he thinking?

A sigh escaped his lips and he opened his eyes again, immediately trained to the empty spot on the bench that Kurosaki had occupied a few moments before.

The branch shook violently as he slid across it and pushed dark green foliage out of the way, blue-green eyes catching the retreating back of Ichigo Kurosaki. Rather than wondering why he was so eager to watch him leave, one thought pushed to the forefront of his head, coupled with the confirmation of his watch.

He'd been watching Kurosaki for almost an _hour_.


	3. 025 Strangers

Second part of three. I find it hard to write Ichigo, for some reason... Hitsugaya just comes out easier, despite that I act absolutely nothing like him. oO

---

When he was fifteen, Ichigo initially had no idea who he was. Just some shrimpy and rather beaten-up kid.

"What?" hissed the white-haired boy through clenched teeth. Ichigo's frown deepened as he looked him over; his right eye was red and the skin around it beginning to swell, his left leg raised slightly off the ground as to not put pressure on it. Dark blue-green eyes glared at Ichigo from under stray strands of hair curving rebelliously down the kid's face, and he scowled right back (was he supposed to be put off by that?).

"Tch, I was going to ask you if you were alright, but it's a stupid question," Ichigo replied, scratching the back of his head and not appearing entirely sympathetic. "Get your ass kicked, did you?"

"Fuck up."

"That doesn't make any sense, dumbass."

"I don't care. Leave me alone."

It was a rather childish reply and the boy seemed aware of that; his scowl deepened a little and all too suddenly he pushed himself upright, away from the support of the wall, and half-limped, half-staggered down the street. Ichigo raised an eyebrow and wondered how far he was going to get before his balance failed him.

Not very. Well, there was no way he was going to get away with just leaving him to limp the whole way home; he wasn't really badly injured by the looks of it, but he was hardly going to get any better doing that.

"You're not going to get anywhere fast doing that," Ichigo remarked (more or less repeating what he'd just thought), as he stepped up behind the white-haired -- what an interesting hair colour, he noticed -- boy and leant down to speak into his ear.

"What do you want? I'm not any fun now, you're not going to get any enjoyment out of kicking the shit out of me," came the hissed reply, a small hand roughly pushing Ichigo's face away.

"Oh, shut up -- fuck, your hands are freezing," Ichigo said with a start, catching the other's wrist before it pulled away and sliding his hand up to run over the smaller boy's palm and fingers. Tinged pink at the tips with cold, with small grooves from nails digging into his palms -- his own, probably. Stupid, he'd break his thumb easier in a fistfight doing that.

"It's winter. I'm not wearing gloves. What were you expecting?" came the half-mumbled reply, the boy retrieving his hand and holding it with his other. He looked kind of... flustered, Ichigo noted curiously, standing back up and sliding his own hands back into his pockets.

"Your leg looks fine to me," he said finally, shrugging and looking away with a snort.

The white-haired boy blinked and looked down at his left leg, which indeed was supporting his weight along with his right. Too preoccupied with telling him to fuck off to have noticed either, Ichigo thought with the beginnings of a smirk twitching at the edge of his lips.

"Whatever, Kurosaki," he turned and began walking more-or-less normally along the pavement; Ichigo stared after him for a moment before shouting:

"Hey, how'd you know my name?"

The boy stopped and turned his head, his visible eye narrowed. Ichigo only frowned back, suddenly wondering if this kid was really a stranger after all --

"Toshiro Hitsugaya. I sit behind you. You are an unobservant idiot."

Oh. That guy.


End file.
